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Michael Kerpan wrote:The set-up strikes me as rather artificial -- and the disposition of "good" parents and "bad" children is simplistic.

I didn't really see the same division. Of course the parents are more sympathetic than the children, but they're plausibly irritating for their kids to have around, and Moore's character in particular is kind of an asshole at times (especially in the doctor scene). The fact that they get more kindness from strangers than their own children, in this sense, isn't at all implausible. Little acts of kindness to strangers, like the bandleader changing to a slow waltz so they can dance to it, cost nothing. Taking your parents into your house can upend your whole life.

I suppose you can believe more in the children's behavior in Make Way For Tomorrow if you see their attitude to their parents -- as, basically, irritants -- as something you've encountered in your own life, maybe even sometimes in yourself. Maybe it doesn't say much good about me that I find it all too plausible and real, the sort of thing that is not at all restricted to "bad" people.

swo17 wrote:

Michael Kerpan wrote:When I told my children that I now preferred Monkey Business to Duck Soup, their reaction was --"Well, it's about time".

Well, Monkey Business is the best Marx Bros. film. I'll grant you that.

No Dumont and no songs for Groucho? I can't go that far.

Jaime

I realize that others find this movie plausible -- but sadly I don't. I just can't believe in any of the people one sees in this. I didn't expect this to happen (and I hate it when it does). ;~{

In retrospect, I realize that maybe there is just something about the way McCarey works (in general) that aggravates me in Make Way. (It was Make Way that made me finally realize that I did not like McCarey's work in general).

The father, Bark, is ultimately, maybe unconsciously, as selfish as his grown children: 1) by waiting until immediately before the house is repossessed by the bank to inform his children of his financial ruin, he makes the separation of him and his wife much more likely as there is so little time to make alternative arrangements--a Lear-ish testing of his children that backfires; 2) his refusal even to consider taking the caretaking job that would have made it possible to reunite with his wife; 3) the childishly spoiled behaviour he demonstrates in the scene with the doctor, who is clearly trying to help him; 4) his own comments in the last part of the film suggest that he was always somewhat callow , unsuited to his job and spending most evenings out with his male friends, while his wife was at home with the children.

His second son, Robert, is a good-time-Charlie whose jokey antics annoy his father. Bark's irritation may actually mask his recognition that the apple didn't fall far from the tree... Bark and Robert both seem typical of that long line of characters in American literature and film whose defining trait was brutally summarized by one critic: "American men hate to grow up."

It will be very interesting to see what more people make of this film following the Criterion release. I would be very surprised if it survives with its so called "unsung Hollywood masterpiece" status in tact. I, for one, was expecting big things and was left feeling extremely disappointed and underwhelmed. There were so many scenes, like the bridge party, that were overdone to the point of being lachyrimatory...

Whereas the Ozu film is still fresh, this feels quite painfully dated, conventional and stagey and whereas I have seen the former at least five times (and would happily watch it another five times) I would have to be forced to endure this again.
It's fascinating to see how such ostensibly similar films can be so vastly diverging in terms of their results and rewards...

Well, I think it is a little unfair to put any film up against one from Ozu's peak period (in terms of quality, not quantity, that is) let alone a quaint, little Hollywood melodrama from the late 30s. This film isn't really that good, and Ozu definitely made much more out of the skeleton, but it does have its moment. There is this completely lovable sense of melancholy nostalgia flowing through the final moments between the mother and the father. It doesn't push the film up to the level at Tokyo Story (let's be honest, it is not even in the same ballpark) but it still makes an otherwise forgettable film, quite memorable.

I don't think this measures up to Ozu's (and Naruse's) best work from the same time period.

Michael Kerpan wrote:It seems very unsophisticated compared to the depression era works of Ozu, Naruse and Shimizu.

Michael Kerpan wrote:I don't think this measures up to Ozu's (and Naruse's) best work from the same time period.

Got it.

Oh God, he's just going to retort that

These last few responses (beginning w Kerp's "I don't think this measures up to Ozu's (and Naruse's) best work from the same time period.") remind me of that Simpsons episode where each character reverts to their audio trademark (Homer: "D'oh!", Bart: "Ai Caramba," Marge: "(clears throat agitated)", Maggie "(suck suck suck)", etc.)

david hare wrote:Obviously Ozu had seen and admired the film. But I don't find much fruition in making comparisons with Late Spring, say, much beyond the obvious.

Ozu himself did not see this -- but Noda (who co-wrote the screenplay with Ozu)apparently did.

My only point above was that I was NOT comparing this to Ozu's (or Naruse's) post-war works but to the ones from the 30s. I will say that I don't particularly love Ozu's early-40s Toda Family (his first Make Way-derived film -- again the scriptwriter Tadao Ikeda was familiar with McCarey's film) -- because it feels (and works) too much like Make Way.

this always reminded me of another great depression era tearjerker, On Borrowed Time, which Bondi was also in. I had always wished Criterion would add it to the collection. Warners just dumped it off in their archive collection last year.

I'm pretty sure they licensed Universal's transfer here, it has the same blown-out grain you get in most Universal DVDs of the period

Ebert's latest Great Movie.

David Kehr waxes enthusiastic on Make Way For Tomorrow.

Saw it this morning and found it both harrowing and profoundly moving:

Spoiler

what Lucy does to spare George his embarassment and what she asks of him and the other children for Bark's sake

is a testament to her generosity and strength of character, and how McCarey expresses it visually is quite brilliant, her standing upright, George with hunched shoulders, realising that she knows what they had planned and how her act of kindness puts him to shame. He tells Anita how she will come to remember this as a day to be proud of him but Thomas Mitchell's facial expression reflected in the mirror suggests quite otherwise. And that's before the last half hour, a tour de fource for McCarey, Bondi and Moore, by turns romantic, bittersweet, funny and heartbreakingly sad, and a final scene that left me literally speechless.

As for the Ozu over McCarey debate: I think both have made fine films in their own right but (and I say this as someone who has Ozu at the top of their favourite directors' list) I'd personally take Make Way over Tokyo Story (though not Early Summer) any day.

Trivia: In a 2 second shot of Broadway in New York inserted in Rebel Rabbit (Short 13, disc 1, LT Golden Collection Vol. 3) you can clearly see Make Way For Tomorrow on a cinema marquee. I don't think the animator had any specific intention behind the reference, however.

The final act - from standing in front of the auto shop through dinner - is one of the most touching and poignant sequences in any film I've seen. They were both so damned cute, happy, and staving off the sadness of the inevitable ending confronting them all while having true fun for the first time in decades. Such a touching reminder of the perils of growing old and having selfish assholes for kids.

HistoryProf wrote:Such a touching reminder of the perils of growing old and having selfish assholes for kids.

A companion piece to Gran Torino, perhaps?

I thought I wouldn't like this, but it's so beautiful. MWfT isn't a perfect film, and it's more than a touch unrealistic when they encounter so many charitable and kind New Yorkers in the space of one afternoon/evening, but the relationship between the couple reminiscing their life together, knowing that it's coming to an end, was simultaneously wonderful and heart-wrenching. My wife and I went through half a box of Kleenex and became increasingly grateful to FDR for Social Security. McCarey does a great job with the interpersonal dynamics (this film had many highlights in that sense).

I did want to second the post a page ago critical of Bark. I don't think his kids are total assholes, as less than a week's notice that they're going to have to take them in is pretty inconsiderate on the parents' part. But then again, this was the Great Depression, which had unprecedented consequences for many families.

John Ford could construct a whole film around the looks in people's eyes, without a word needing to be spoken. It's pretty incredible, this ability... it goes beyond the mere coming out of the silent era where directors worked without dialog (as it's not accurate anyway, since lines were continuously being spoken onscreen despite the absence of mics), as there were many directors who did so without having this singularly brilliant sense for what works when actors look at each other, look away, come closer, lean against a wall, touch a chair, meet their glances again, start the music throbbing. It's incredible, watching these mini-operas in Ford's sound films. And they're everywhere.

Goes back to that great line with I believe Harry Carey Jr, when he asked Ford "how (he) direct(s) actors," and the ol' grouch didn't reply. Weeks or months went by... then Stagecoach was being cut in post (this is from memory, so forgive if the details are slightly off), and Ford approached Carey and asked him, after he watched a long scene with John Wayne, "Did you see the scene with John Wayne?" "Yeah," "How many lines did Wayne have in the scene?" "Almost none." "That's how you direct actors..." Ford grumped and walked away.

I watched this last night and was quite impressed. I was expecting the movie to make most of its mileage from a sentimental scenario guaranteed to be a tearjerker. I wasn't expecting the acting to blindside me as it did, but it really surprised me. Bark and Lucy won me over as their actions seemed consistent with experiences in my own life. The actions of the children felt equally true as I was able to see everything from their angle. I was impressed that McCarey took the trouble to cover all of those angles rather than paint all the kids as heartless brats. Their behavior made sense. It was still selfish behavior, but McCarey took the time to ground it so as to make his point more powerful. I can't say I needed to be convinced on the need for caring for one's parents, but this film didn't feel as didactic or sentimental as I'd thought it might be. The comment - was it Giddins or Bogdanovich? - that the film possessed a Renoir-like humanism struck true to me. I liked the opening (and to me, ironic) shot of the snowcovered house as it looked like a Currier and Ives print. All in all, a very impressive movie. I'll have to buy a copy now during the B&N sale. The extras were good, too. Giddins' comments were great and I look forward even more to his commentary on the Kubrick disc. Even Bogdanovich was okay. His anecdote that Welles called it "the saddest movie ever" was a highlight. This is certainly another DVD of the Year candidate for me.

Jean-Luc Garbo wrote:Welles called it "the saddest movie ever".
This is certainly another DVD of the Year candidate for me.

I whole-heartedly agree on both counts. What a powerful, but not manipulative, film.

> I whole-heartedly agree on both counts. What a powerful, but not manipulative, film.

And yet, I (alone in all the world, it would seem) find it almost as manipulative as Kinoshita's 24 Eyes (which gets my vote as the most manipulative, reasonably good film I've ever seen -- not counting Spielberg's better efforts).

You have at least one compatriot. I've only seen it once, but I disliked it intensely. I'll never understand why Leo McCarey thought he got the Oscar for "the wrong film," when The Awful Truth is one of the most exquisitely rendered romantic comedies ever made.